


The Invincible Winner

by ForevermoreNevermore



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-17
Updated: 2014-10-17
Packaged: 2018-02-21 12:10:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2467808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForevermoreNevermore/pseuds/ForevermoreNevermore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not being allowed into a rehearsal should've tipped Emma off that David was hiding something.<br/>She just didn't imagine it was <i>that</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Invincible Winner

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo, so this is my first actual writing for Once Upon a Time. I mean, I've wanted to for a long time, I've just never been able to get it right. I still don't know if I did (??), but I really really needed to try. So, I hope it's good, and thanks for reading!

Emma’s been shoved to the front of the crowd by the undulations, and she’s decided she is going to spend the next hour staring resolutely at the boot of the man singing Pat Benatar covers, for fuck’s sake. She alternates the black buckled boot for the bearded drummer with the cute hat.

The music crescendos and he does a goddamned power slide, stretching leather pants to an obscene max and Emma glances up out of surprise and meets his eyes.

“You’re the right kind of sinner, to release my inner fantasies,” Emma thinks she may have discovered a previously hidden heart palpitation. 

A small shove to her back harkens Mary Margaret’s arrival, her short hair sticking up at odd angles and an excited gleam in her eye. It’s all for her boyfriend, though, and Emma tears her gaze away from the singer to catch David making doe eyes at her. Jesus, they had it bad. But he’s on guitar so it only lasts so long, and he’s glancing down at his hands. 

“Aren’t they great?” Mary Margaret shouts, her breaths coming in excited little pants. Emma’s made eye contact again and is finding it ridiculously hard to look away. 

“They’re, uh,” he’s got his hands back on the mike stand, and his grip is light, trailing along the length. “Good. Great. Yeah.” Mary Margaret scoots closer as the throngs scream for an encore. “I wonder why David never let us in on a rehearsal.”

Mary Margaret gives a fond laugh that’s swallowed in the screams. “He wasn’t sure they were any good. He always got flustered when I’d bring it up.”

“Who’s, uh, he?” Emma flaps a hand at the singer.

“That’s Killian. They’ve been friends since college, but he went off on a bender. When he got back they decided to start back up the old band.”

“Bender, huh?”

“Yeah, David won’t tell me the details, but apparently it didn’t end well.” Emma lets out a small hum that’s probably lost in the vocals. “He’s pretty cute though?”

“Yeah. I mean,” Emma tears her eyes away and catches Mary Margaret’s knowing little smile. Damn her, and her smug instincts. “For a guy who does ‘benders’.”

“Perfect for a girl who does ‘benders’.”

“Are you trying to set me up?” Emma asks, narrowing her eyes. Mary Margaret’s smile softens and she waves her hand. She still manages to personify grace with her hair looking post-fuck and red lipstick.

“No, he’d probably end badly anyway.”

“Yeah, I mean look at all that leather,” Emma says with a laugh. “That’s, uh, too much leather. Right?” One of his buttons had come undone. “Nevermind.”

“Thank you, and bless you all,” Emma hadn’t even noticed that they were finishing until Killian gives a small bow with the rest of the band. The crowd roars, and Mary Margaret gives a little shout. When everyone turns to pack up for the next band, Killian pauses a moment to let his gaze rake over the audience. Emma turns to see what he’s looking for, only to turn back and see him staring down at her. A blush erupts over her whole body and he offers a small little grin.

Mary Margaret’s jerking her away before she can return the gesture, her hand around Emma’s wrist. She resituates so that she’s being jerked by her hand, and Mary Margaret leads the way like a squirrel. “Lets get back there before they do.” She smiles over her shoulder.

“You’ve got lipstick on your teeth.”

As soon as they burst through the door, laughing like a bunch of crows, Mary Margaret makes her way over to David.

“Ya’ll were fantastic!” She says, “I told you, you had nothing to worry about.”

“Yeah, it was really great,” Emma says. David smiles at her around Mary Margaret.

“Thanks for coming you guys.” The drummer lets out a small cough, and David’s face reddens. “Oh yeah, this is the guys, guys, these are the girls. Smee and Robin, Mary Margaret and Emma,” he says with a content grin, happy to lean back as introductions fly around him. There’s a woman sitting obscenely close to Robin who gives Emma a curt smile, but offers Mary Margaret something a touch more genuine.

“It’s been awhile,” she says, her voice deep and regal. Mary Margaret takes in the woman and breaks into a happy grin. 

“Regina!? I haven’t seen you in so long!” She untangles herself from David, much to his chagrin, and plops down next to the dark haired women. 

“Um, hey,” Emma said, sidling up to David. “What about the singer?”

“Killian?” Then his face lights up like he’s forgotten something. “He probably just stepped out for some air.”

Emma tries to make her hum sound as uninterested as possible. “And where’s the bathroom?”

“Outside on the fire escape,” David says, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Whaaaat? No, I mean-“ she stops her act when David offers her a smile. “Okay, shit, can’t you at least give me the benefit of the doubt?”

“He’s not really the best idea you’ve ever had.”

“But it is my idea,” Emma says. David lets out a long sigh, his smile growing long-suffering.

“And that’s why that’s all I’m going to say.” Then he gesture towards the door. Emma mouths a silent ‘thank you’, and books it out the door. 

She fumbles through the narrow hallways, squeezing past making out couples and trying not to kick over plastic cups of alcohol. A fresh breeze gives her new hope and she follows it to the end of the hall. There’s a faint humming that she can make out when she rests her hands on the ledge to hop out.

“Well, at least you won’t notice if you get any of the paint on you,” she says, interrupting his muttered ‘Paint It Black’. He starts, dropping his cup and swinging towards her with wild eyes. She throws her hands up in defense and knocks her head against the low window.

“Oh, sorry love,” she hears him say, and feels a hand resting against her head. “Let me go get you some ice.” He tries to make his way out through the window, but Emma stays put. He keeps trying until they bump noses and he gives her a mortified expression. “Um…”

“I’m fine,” she finally manages, way too close to his eyes. And she thought David had doe eyes. “Really. Sorry about your drink.”

“It was water,” he shifts about awkwardly for a moment, trying to figure out if he should meet her eyes or stare down at his dripping drink. “Um, I’m Killian, and I’m usually much smoother than this,” he offers her his hand, and Emma shakes it tightly. The warmth of his hand is offset by the chill of his rings, and she feels her grin widen. But at their closeness, she can tell that was definitely not water.

“I’m Emma Swan. That was a great show.” Killian finally steps back so she can unfold through the window. He’s still got a hold of her hand, so he helps her get her bearings. 

“Thanks. I saw you down there with Mary Margaret. Are the two of you friends?” He bends over to pick up his cup while Emma leans against the wall. 

“Yeah. We’re pretty close, she’s like my sister, or a weird mom.” Killian lets out a short laugh, and leans beside her. Their shoulders don’t touch, and she wonders if she should fix that. She catches his jaw working out of the corner of her eyes.

“Aye, I’ve only met her a few times, but she does sort of have that,” his hand wavers in the air in lieu of any word he could think of, “sort of aura, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah! It’s weird. Love her to death, but sometimes I wonder.”

“Wonder what?”

“If she’s an axe murderer or a queen.” Killian doesn’t laugh at that one, and a realization changes his expression comically.

“That explains her perfectly.” The wind is picking up a bit, and it whips at Emma’s hair. She grunts and tosses it back.

“So what do you do? Besides the whole music and adoring fan thing?” He raises an eyebrow at her, and Emma has to smirk to keep from blushing. 

“Not much, honestly. I’ve recently fallen into a lull.”

“A stay at home rich dude?” Emma supplies cheekily, bumping into his shoulder. He laughs, his fingers tented over his empty cup. 

“I’m rich in very few things, Miss Swan.”

“Such as?”

“Well, if you haven’t noticed I’m rather blessed in the looks department,” he’s staring at her from the corner of his eyes, and Emma has to say something sharp to keep from agreeing wholeheartedly like a sheep dog.

“I didn’t think I’d ever actually be able to call someone incorrigible.” Killian sniffs, mock hurt. 

“I figured someone as equally blessed as you would understand. It appears I stand alone.”

“But still very pretty,” Emma tacks on solemnly, earning a look. He’s trying to figure out if she means it, and she plans to not give away an inch. She leans into the corner and smirks at him. “So why are you out here alone?”

“What’s wrong with being alone?” Killian shrugs as an answer, his fingers tightening around his cup. Emma catches the small tensing of his fingers, and the veins running along the bared skin of his forearm. Then he snaps out of whatever had been bearing over his head. “What brings you out here?”

“Oh, um,” damn, a flaw in her plan, “I suppose the same. Some fresh air.” 

David picks that time to poke his head through the window and give a quiet littla ‘hah’.

“I see you found him, Emma,” Emma feels the blush creep from her neck, across her face, and into the tips of her ears. Killian’s smile unfurls across his face, but it’s not triumphant. It’s something soft, much softer than has any damn right being on a man with that much leather and that many rings. “Killian, the managers want to talk to us about doing another show.” And he pops his head back through the window like the horrible little sneak that he is.

“You were looking for me?” Killian asks softly, his eyebrows furrowed. 

Emma’s too busy trying to tamp down her spreading blush to think of too good of an excuse. “You were the only member of the band I didn’t get to congratulate. And I wanted to meet everyone.”

Killian still looks like he’s a few hurdles behind on the race. “You came looking for me out on a fire escape, to meet me?”

“You’re not much for helping a situation, are you?” Emma finally blurts, her face past salvaging. He blinks at her, face falling for a moment, before he gives her a goofy grin. 

“That’s not really my forte. I’m more a, let’s throw gas on it and let it burn, kind of guy.” Killian offers with a wry little twist of his lips. “But I suppose that’s just something you’ll figure out on your own.”

“Tell me something about yourself.” Emma says suddenly. “Tell me something I wouldn’t be able to figure out by myself.”

 

“Maybe I need something in exchange for that information. I don’t just give stuff out, you know.” Emma feels a heat snap in her stomach. “Tell me something about yourself.”

“I have a superpower,” Emma whispers conspiratorially, leaning close. Killian glances slyly over his shoulder and mirrors her. “I can tell when you’re lying. Always. So, you know,” she gestures blithely, “just a heads up.” Then she motions for Killian to take his turn. “Go ahead, take me for a spin.” 

“My hand was taken by a crocodile and I have stolen from royalty.” Emma’s gaze snaps down to his nonexistent hand, then right back up to his same little smile. She waits, but gets nothing. Then, 

“Stolen?”

Killian’s face breaks out in a bright, happy grin. “Are you coming to our next concert?” He asks, clapping a hand to her shoulder. The whiplash she gets from the change of topic sends her whirling, coupled with his strange gesture, more of one from a friend to another than… well…

“Yeah, probably…” Emma can’t fight the infectious tingle that passes between the two of them, and she smiles right back at him. Killian’s eyes are searching her face, like he’s looking for something, or-

His tongue darts out, and his gaze locks onto her lips for a split second before he jumps right back up to her eyes.

“Then it’s a date,” Killian says with a snap as he retreats through the window. “I’ll be looking for you in the front row!” He nearly catches his foot on the window frame and sends himself crashing into the floor, but manages to catch himself at the last moment. 

“Yeah, and it’ll be so hard to find you,” Emma snarks sarcastically after him, peering through the window as he disappears around the corner. She lets out a breath, then a loud curse when Mary Margaret clears her throat by the window.

“A date?” Mary Margaret asks quietly, one eyebrow quirked.

“Oh hush.” Emma says, dismissing her with a wave of her hand. Mary Margaret raises her hands in defense and shakes her head.

“I was only saying…” then she sobers up, “but really, do be careful.”

“You know, I never told you to be careful with David.” Mary Margaret blinks slowly at her, her face sliding into a smirk.

“That’s because you knew better.” Yup, definitely an axe murderer.


End file.
